I cannot but admire
that patience and that eye
caring and knowing
how to treat a roll of silk
where mulberry bloom,
smoothly spun, become
what a woman wears on her skin,
one that slows down
fleeting radiance of light
to a brush of painting touch.
O how I cannot but admire
that patience and that eye
that bring such spangled silk
to the brink where poems breathe.
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